


A Surfeit of Mimmoths

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Mild Language, Mimmoths, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...but WHY is Castle Wulfenbach suddenly overrun with mimmoths?</p>
<p>There is an answer to that question, but it involves dealing with Tarvek Sturmvoraus in full-on devious mode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Surfeit of Mimmoths

“Well, I don't know, Gil,” I said. “Borrow Krosp?”

Gil gave me an odd look. “Have you seen Krosp lately? Granted, he is going to live longer than the average cat, but even so, he's getting on a bit these days.”

“Ah... yes,” I replied. “But I'm really not sure what else to suggest. After all, my skills do lie in international diplomacy rather than pest control.”

“In the case of Martellus von Blitzengaard, that's pretty much the same thing,” said Gil.

“A fair point,” I agreed, “but even so, Martellus von Blitzengaard isn't a plague of mimmoths.”

Gil sighed. “True. There's only one of him, and he doesn't... no, I won't say it, tempted as I am. I shall leave to your imagination what the mimmoths are doing in the air vents.”

“I should imagine they are doing several things there, and most of them unwelcome,” I said.

“Pretty much. I can't think how the little vermin got on board in the first place. We've been mimmoth-free for years now, and then all of a sudden, this.”

I shrugged. “It only takes one food delivery with a mother mimmoth in it. She has her litter in the stores, and, there you are, you have mimmoths.”

“Pity they didn't catch it and roast it,” said Gil sourly. “They're edible, you know. Not much on one, as you'd expect, but you can stuff them like quails.”

I privately felt that life was too short to go round stuffing mimmoths, but I said nothing on the subject. Instead, I said, “Well, you're a spark. Can't you create some clever device that fries their brains while leaving every other living thing on board the ship unharmed, or something like that?”

“Tried that,” he said, shortly. “Didn't work. The damn things are _evolving.”_

“Doesn't everything?” I asked, surprised.

“Not like these it doesn't. Why do you imagine the poisons didn't work? Oh, they killed a few of them, but all they've done – all everything we've thrown at them has done – is weed out the ones who are a little behind in the evolutionary arms race.”

I considered the implications of this. “Are you saying someone's using these mimmoths as a weapon?”

“I did wonder about that, but I don't think so,” replied Gil. “After all, they're not a threat, as such. They're just a damn nuisance. Now if they'd been carrying some disease, I'd have naturally assumed I was on the end of some hostilities, but they're not. They're just mimmoths. I think what's probably happened is they escaped from someone's lab and somehow ended up here. Nothing deliberate involved.”

“The nearest major spark is Tarvek,” I mused. “Have you asked him if they're his? If so, he might know how to deal with them.”

“I've sent him a message, for what it's worth,” said Gil, “but I'm not expecting much. Even if they are his, he'll have plenty. He's not likely to turn up to collect them, and he'll probably just sit around laughing at the thought of Castle Wulfenbach being up to the fins in blasted mimmoths.”

“Well, that's a risk,” I admitted, “but he might help. If you catch him in a good mood.”

A minion came trotting up at this point. “Message for you, Herr Baron.”

“Oh – thank you.” Gil took it and opened it. “Well, I'll be...” He paused. “I appear to have caught him in a good mood, Ardsley. He's coming up himself.”

“Oh, excellent!” I said. “It could, of course, be that the mimmoths are more important to him than he's letting on. But whatever the reason is, it'll be useful to have two sparks on the case.”

“Three sparks,” Gil reminded me, rather frostily.

“Oh, yes, Aristide,” I said. “Of course. But, since he hasn't been clearly a spark for very long, I'm afraid I do sometimes forget.”

I felt very sorry for Aristide, though, of course, I could not tell Gil that. Gil had been absolutely determined not to make the same mistakes with Aristide that his father had made with him, and therefore he was very conscientious about not ordering him about like a minion; he always gave reasons for instructions, and at least tried to negotiate, although this did not invariably work. But, ever since Aristide had broken out as a spark, Gil had been putting him under just as much pressure as Klaus had done to him. It was in a different way, and he did not intend to do it, but it was happening anyway. It was not enough for Aristide to be just a spark; he had to be a strong spark. Unfortunately, he was not, and from the look of him he was never going to be.

So Gil dragged him into projects well out of his depth, and lost his temper and shouted at him when he got things wrong; and Aristide had inherited all of his father's fire and apparently a little extra, therefore he shouted back. It was not a happy situation, and there was very little I could do about it unless Gil asked me outright. I had to content myself with sitting and listening to Aristide when he felt he needed me in my capacity as his honorary uncle. As relations with his father grew more and more strained, this was happening more often, and I felt this was not a good sign.

And now he was going to be dragged in on the mimmoth business. Well, at least there would be Tarvek to help oil the wheels. Tarvek might be an unscrupulous customer when he wanted to be, but he certainly was not completely callous, and he had no reason to hold any grudge against Aristide. I was pretty certain he would feel as sorry for the young man as I did, and smoothly intervene when required.

Tarvek arrived the following day, and I flew up to Castle Wulfenbach to greet him, as was only polite. I found him, as I expected, with Gil and Aristide in the laboratory.

“Oh, hallo, Ardsley,” said Gil.

“Hallo, Gil,” I replied. “I know you're all busy, so I won't be staying, but I could hardly not come and pay my respects to Tarvek here.”

“Oh, that's very good of you,” said Tarvek. “I was actually going to drop in on you at the Embassy, but since you've saved me the trouble...”

“You were?” I asked, startled. Kings do not normally casually drop into foreign embassies in other people's territory.

“Yes,” he replied, opaquely. I was puzzled. I could only assume that he must want a word with me about something specific, and did not wish to say so in front of Gil. “And you're looking well, incidentally; much better than when I saw you last.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Yes, I'm feeling a great deal better. I've managed to put a bit of weight back on, and I'm much less tired these days.”

“Can't you stay, Uncle Ardsley?” asked Aristide.

“Well, maybe just for a while, if your father doesn't mind,” I replied. If Tarvek wanted a private word, that would give him the chance to have one; and, besides, I could then see the lie of the land, as it were, regarding how Tarvek dealt with Aristide's situation. If he handled it as well as I thought he would, I could leave a little later with my mind at rest.

“You know you're always welcome,” replied Gil, “but I'm afraid you may be bored. We're doing nothing but talk about mimmoths.”

“Fascinating creatures, though,” said Tarvek. “There is a great deal more to the humble mimmoth than meets the eye.”

“You don't, ah, know anything about the origin of this particular infestation, do you?” I asked.

He grinned. “Yes, they're mine. Or they were. I think they're Gil's at the moment, but I assure you that wasn't my intention. That's why I agreed to come and help clear them up.”

“Which was, I'll admit, pretty decent of you, Sturmvoraus,” said Gil.

“Well... if you'd found out they were mine and I hadn't come and helped you with them, you'd have set something equally annoying on me by way of revenge,” replied Tarvek. “Although, to be honest, I'm still trying to work out how the little brutes got out of my lab. That does concern me a bit.”

“Mimmoths can get anywhere,” said Gil.

“Usually, yes, but I thought I had them pretty well penned,” said Tarvek.

“You still haven't exactly made it clear what you were doing with them,” said Gil. “I've told you they survive everything we throw at them by simply evolving fast enough to deal with it; we kill a few off, true, but the ones who survive breed, and then their offspring are immune to whatever it was. Now, presumably that was your doing. I've only got one question to ask about that. Why?”

“Oh, now, Gil,” Tarvek protested. “I wouldn't ask you to reveal the secrets of your laboratory.”

“I wouldn't normally ask you,” Gil countered, “but in this case I'm just infernally curious. I don't see what use rapidly evolving mimmoths are to anyone.” He paused. “Unless you really are thinking of using them as a weapon by sending them out carrying some terrible disease; but if you were going to do that sort of thing, you wouldn't need to go to all the trouble to create special everything-resistant mimmoths.”

“Oh, goodness, no. I'd just take a leaf out of nature's book and use rats,” said Tarvek.

Gil frowned. “I note you don't immediately insist you'd never do such a thing.”

Tarvek shrugged elegantly. “Well, I've never needed to do it yet, but you never know what may happen. If anyone tried doing that to me, I think you can safely say I'd do it back.” He grinned. “First.”

“I dare say you would,” said Gil darkly. “Anyway. How do we go about getting rid of these things? I've had a complaint from the laundry this morning. Apparently they've been finding dead ones in the wash coppers.” He suddenly swung round on Aristide. “And, before Tarvek says anything, have you got any ideas?”

“Catch them, castrate them, and then release them again?” Aristide suggested. “That'll stop them breeding...”

“Aristide,” said Gil thunderously, “there are probably several thousand mimmoths on this damned ship by now. How long do you think it would take to catch all the male ones? And, honestly, have you ever tried castrating a mimmoth?”

“Actually,” said Tarvek, “the basic essence of that idea is not only sound, but exactly what I was going to suggest. Not, of course, catching them and castrating them individually; as you rightly say, that would take for ever, and you would probably end up with some kind of infinite mimmoth regression. But we could certainly develop a chemical agent to stop them breeding, and that's what I was thinking we might do.”

Thank goodness for that, I thought. Tarvek's backing up Aristide, as I had hoped.

“H'mm,” said Gil. “And, what, put it down in the air vents like the poisons?”

Tarvek nodded. “But first,” he said, “we're going to need some mimmoths. We have to test the stuff, after all.”

“True,” Gil agreed.

“So,” said Tarvek. “Ardsley. Why don't you go and catch us some mimmoths?”

I gaped. “Me?”

“What?!” Gil exploded. “Tarvek, he's the British Ambassador to my Empire, in case you had forgotten. And you want to send him off to catch mimmoths?!”

“Ardsley is outstandingly good at everything he does,” replied Tarvek, wide-eyed. “I happen to think that would also apply to catching mimmoths. And, after all, we do need a number of them quickly.”

“Sweet lightning, Tarvek, does international protocol mean nothing to you?” asked Gil. He was getting really angry on my behalf. “You do _not_ go sending foreign ambassadors round chasing after vermin!”

“Well, I don't actually mind doing it,” I said hastily. “I was just a little surprised to be asked, that's all.”

“I don't suppose you do mind doing it, but that's not the point,” Gil fumed. “You may not be one to stand on your dignity, but that doesn't mean it's appropriate. That sort of thing isn't what ambassadors are for. It's what minions are for.”

Yes, I thought; and Tarvek knows that. He's got some reason for wanting me to do it, and it's probably nothing at all to do with mimmoths. “I'll do it, Gil,” I insisted. “It'll save a bit of time. And, after all, Tarvek's a king, and he was going to come and see me at the Embassy.”

“Well, if you absolutely have to,” said Gil. “But don't put that in your dispatches, or they'll all choke on their tea back in London.”

“Good of you, Ardsley,” said Tarvek, with a brilliant smile. He had to be up to something; but then again, he _was_ breathing.

“I'll find you a bag,” said Gil. “How many do we want, do you think, Tarvek?”

“Oh, maybe a dozen or so. If the infestation is as bad as you say, it shouldn't take too long to find them... maybe another dozen to be on the safe side? Up to you, really, Ardsley. After all, there are plenty of air vents to go looking in.”

Ah, I thought. Air vents. Tarvek specifically wants me to look in the air vents, and he knows I will pick that up, because he's already aware that I am, as he puts it, a smooth operator. Now, does he know that I used to hide documents in the air vents when I was a spy on board this ship?

Yes. I think we can probably assume he does. Therefore, I think we can also safely assume that he expects me to find something other than mimmoths.

Oh, I do like playing diplomatic chess. It really never gets old. Let's see, now. He was originally going to come and see me at the Embassy, but I forestalled that by coming up here myself. What would have happened if I hadn't flown up? Well, he could have stalled Gil until he had a chance to come and visit me and explain what he needed me to do. But, because he hasn't had that chance to talk to me, we're running on hints and raised eyebrows. Very well. I can do those.

So I took the bag, went round all the specific air vents where I used to hide documents, and returned to Gil and Tarvek with a couple of dozen assorted mimmoths and the armful of paperwork I had deduced I was probably going to find.

“Astonishing,” I said, wearing my best deadpan diplomatic face. “Someone appears to have been hiding papers in the air vents, Gil.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you never use the word 'astonishing' when you actually are astonished?” said Gil.

I grinned. “I have every reason not to be astonished. I used to do it myself, back in the day. But someone else is clearly quite good, because they've been using the same vents.”

“H'mm,” said Gil. “Well... let's have a look, then.”

I handed the papers over. “Huh,” he said. “Some of these I really didn't want to go missing. Good job we did send you looking for mimmoths after all. You would go and look in your favourite vents, not the easy ones where we were putting the poison.”

“Well, they'd avoid those if you were always putting poison in them,” I said. “I reckoned I'd find more mimmoths in, shall we say, the less obvious places; and I think I did.”

“There's code scribbled on these,” Gil observed. “One you know?”

“No, but if you want any help cracking it, I enjoy that sort of thing,” I replied.

“It is as I said,” beamed Tarvek. “Ardsley here is a man of enormous talent.”

“Yes, yes, stop flattering him,” said Gil. “I know it's true, but all you'll do is make his ears turn red, and it's not as if you were going to shake his allegiance.”

“I suppose you don't know the code, Tarvek?” I asked innocently.

He leaned over Gil's shoulder. “I'm afraid not,” he replied. “But we might be able to do a quick test to tell where that blue pencil is likely to come from. The pigments in it might tell us quite a lot.”

Yes, I thought; I expect you can, but then it's always easy when you know the right answer in advance. Tarvek Sturmvoraus, you have a spy on this ship, and your spy has caught someone else's spy, but you can't tell Gil that without admitting that you've got a spy yourself. So... you see to it that I catch the other spy for you. Very clever. I expect you will now be able to deal quickly and efficiently with the plague of mimmoths, and Gil will be very grateful to you for helping. The fact that you almost certainly did send them here in the first place, knowing that Gil wouldn't be able to deal with them himself, is... well, probably one I won't tell Gil. Once they're gone, they're gone, and there is no sense in making him any angrier than he need be.

But you know me, you know how I work, and so you knew where I'd go looking. Yes. Very good. You don't know that when I've finished shaking hands with you and seeing you off this ship, I'll be doing the same to your spy in very short order. Because, believe me, I will find them. I didn't mind playing your charade; you knew I'd be aware that it was a charade, but you were so busy congratulating yourself on using me that you didn't credit me with making the obvious final deduction. And, really, Tarvek, it was obvious...

Oh, hold on. Think, Wooster. This is Tarvek Sturmvoraus you're dealing with, and he never, ever leaves obvious loopholes. You've worked him out so far, so don't go and fall over on the last hurdle. What _else_ is this magenta-maned master manipulator plotting?

Ah...

“...Ardsley?” Gil was saying.

“Oh! Sorry, Gil. I was just lost in thought for a moment,” I said.

“I think I know why you sent Uncle Ardsley,” said Aristide, suddenly and accusingly. “You knew he used to be a spy. You knew where he'd look. So you must have known there would be something there.”

“Oh, well _done_ , Aristide,” I said warmly. “I wasn't going to say anything, but since you've said it out loud... yes. Absolutely. Your spy on Castle Wulfenbach has caught someone else's spy, yes, Tarvek?”

Tarvek laughed. “Nearly right, Ardsley, but I wasn't going to leave my spy here after that little trick. I pulled them off before I got here. I never make the mistake of underestimating you, and it seems I should learn to do the same with young Aristide here.”

“You... you...” Gil spluttered.

“Oh, Gil,” said Tarvek languidly. “As if you didn't have a spy or two in Sturmhalten. Really.”

“Hmpf,” said Gil. “Well, if you're so clever and you knew Ardsley would rumble you, why the hell didn't you just tell me straight out that your spy had caught this other spy, then? Why go through all that rigmarole?”

Tarvek chuckled. “Because, unlike Aristide, he would never have said anything out loud until I'd left the ship. That's not his way. Ardsley would have waited till I'd gone, told you everything, and then had a very interesting time trying to find the spy who wasn't there. And you'd have had so much fun searching, wouldn't you, Ardsley? It seems rather a pity to deprive you of that, but, alas, Youth has spoken.” His eyes were positively dancing with mischief.

“We've got only your word for it that your spy is no longer here,” Gil growled.

“Well... you can send Ardsley looking if you want,” Tarvek grinned. “He's a good British bloodhound, is Ardsley. He'll certainly find the scent, but the quarry, alas, ran to earth some time ago now.”

I stared at him. “Tarvek,” I asked, mildly, “why the hell do I actually like you?”

“Because we're two of a kind, that's why,” replied Tarvek. “We both have minds that could hide behind a corkscrew. The only difference is that you've got much more of a conscience than I have. I'm not totally without one, I must admit, and that can be a bit of a nuisance sometimes; but you seem to be on pretty good terms with yours on the whole, which is actually quite an achievement.”

“It's easier when you're a diplomat than when you're a spy,” I said.

“It's pretty much impossible when you're a king,” he replied, smiling wryly. “So I just don't tend to bother.”

“No, you don't, do you?” Gil grumped. “You haven't got the morals of a cat.”

“Oh, indeed, perhaps not the morals,” Tarvek admitted cheerfully, “but I have all the style, charm and elegance of a cat, don't you think?”

“And the tendency to play around with your prey,” Gil snarled. “And, let me tell you, Tarvek, I do not appreciate you doing that with Ardsley.”

“No, Gil,” I said. “I can look after myself here. I don't need you to defend me, though I do appreciate the thought. Tarvek is quite right; I'm not prey. I'm another cat. We have just been trying to outwit each other, and I, for one, have been enjoying it.”

“Well, that's very sporting of you,” said Tarvek, “considering I won this round.”

I shrugged and smiled. “It's not often I get the chance to play out a battle of wits at this level. It was a splendid victory, well won, Tarvek.”

I stayed around after that. Naturally I did. I knew the business with the mimmoths would be sorted out quickly, and indeed it was; so I hung around in the lab, made appropriate small talk now and again, put in the odd word of encouragement and support to Aristide when needed, and generally behaved like Gil's old friend and former assistant who was curious to be in on the action. I was still hanging around by the time Tarvek left the ship, as the reader will no doubt expect.

“Huh,” said Gil. “Well, he's gone.”

I put a finger to my lips and reached into one of his coat pockets. He looked startled, of course, but he knows me well. I drew out what appeared to be a coin, and bit it.

It was a good imitation, but it was not any kind of real currency. I pointed to the tooth marks and shook my head vigorously. Gil stared, then took the coin and tossed it into the nearest rubbish chute.

“There,” I said. “I'm pretty certain that's the only one he planted on you. If he sent his spy away – and I believe him on that, since he was pretty much challenging me to find them – then he was going to arrange some kind of substitute, and, with him being Tarvek, that was likely to mean he would plant some devices of some kind. There are definitely more in the lab. Come on. Let's go and find them.” I grinned.

“Did you actually see him plant them?” asked Gil, amazed.

“Goodness, no. He's far too subtle for that, and he would have expected us to be watching him. But, between us, we do know where he was at all points. We just check everywhere he possibly could have planted something. And he was obviously going to do it; that was why he was here, after all.”

“What?” said Gil. “He was here because it amused him to give you the run-around!”

“Well, it did, but that was a side issue which he wanted us to think was his main motive for being here,” I explained. “You see, the moment his spy caught that other spy, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to let you know about the other spy without getting his own spy off the ship. I don't know whose spy the other one is, but I dare say it's someone dangerous to both parties. So if he had to take his own spy out of the picture for a while – and I dare say he'll send another one along once things have settled down – then he had to find a way of getting on board himself in order to plant some surveillance devices as a temporary measure. That meant he had to get you to invite him on board; hence the mimmoths. The whole point of mimmoths which are apparently resistant to everything is that you can't deal with them on your own and you have to ask the nearest other spark for help, and, since he freely admits they're his mimmoths, he knows how to deal with them and you don't suspect him.” I paused. “As for giving me the run-around; yes, he'd certainly have enjoyed doing that, because that's the kind of person he is. I would not actually have resented it. It's all chess to me, and everyone loses the odd game. But, nonetheless, he did set things up to ensure that once we saw through the spy business, we would assume that was his motivation for coming up here. Remember, he even told me in front of you that he would have come to see me at the embassy if I hadn't come up here to see him. And as for sending me off to look for mimmoths, he knew very well I'd do it, because for one thing he knows I don't stand on my dignity, and for another thing he knew I'd deduce that if he was asking me, he had a very good reason. It really was a rather delightful smoke screen, don't you think, Gil?” I grinned.

“Sweet lightning, Ardsley,” said Gil admiringly. “And I really thought you'd been beaten for once. You were so sporting about admitting defeat, too.”

“Well, it never does any harm to do that,” I replied with a smile. “Especially not when you've actually won.”


End file.
